Chapter 87 Chapter 87
Hailey’s POV
Damien pounded on the door again, his voice hard and commanding. “Sophia, open this door. Now. This isn’t a request.”
Silence stretched for what felt like minutes.
Then we heard the lock click.
The door opened slowly, and Sophia stood there, her eyes red and puffy from crying, her face set in stubborn defiance.
“What?” she said, her voice flat.
“We’re leaving,” Damien said. “Pack your things. Now.”
“I already told you, I’m not going…..” Sophia started.
“Leave us alone,” she interrupted herself, looking past Damien directly at me. “This is between me and my father. But of course, you can’t let that happen, can you? I can feel your influence all over him. You’ve poisoned everything.”
I felt anger flash through me, hot and immediate. This girl this spoiled, manipulative girl had led Marco to his death with her schemes, had nearly gotten all of us killed, and she had the audacity to blame me for everything?
But I swallowed the anger down. Losing my temper wouldn’t help anything.
“Sophia,” I said, keeping my voice calm and steady. “Stop being a little kid and grow up. We’re in desperate times. We need to stick together and stay safe. Your personal feelings about me don’t matter right now.”
Sophia’s eyes flashed with fury. “Don’t tell me what to do! You don’t get to lecture me! You’re not my mother, you’re not my family, you’re just some girl who got knocked up and trapped my father!”
“That’s enough!” Damien’s voice cut through like a whip. “Both of you, stop.”
He stepped between us, his expression dark with frustration.
“Sophia, I don’t have time for this,” he said, his voice dropping to something dangerous. “We are leaving. Today. Right now. Whether you like it or not. This is a secret movement we can’t afford delays or drama. So pack your things and get ready to go.”
Sophia stared at him, tears streaming down her face. “You’re really choosing her over me.”
“I’m choosing to keep my family safe,” Damien said firmly. “All of my family. That includes you, Sophia. Even when you make it incredibly difficult.”
Sophia’s lip trembled, but she finally nodded. “Fine. I’ll go. But I’m sitting in my own car. I’m not riding with her.”
“Fine,” Damien agreed. “Just pack. Ten minutes.”
Sophia slammed the door in our faces.
Damien turned to me, exhaustion written all over his features. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said quietly, though part of me wondered if it was. If my presence really was making everything worse.
Ten minutes later, we were loading into a convoy of vehicles. Three black SUVs with tinted windows, each heavily armored.
Isabella, my mother, and I were assigned to the first vehicle with Kai driving. Benita was in the second vehicle with several guards. And Sophia, true to her word, rode in the third vehicle alone except for the driver and one guard.
Damien would follow later, after handling some final business at the hotel.
As we pulled away from the hotel, I pressed my face to the window and watched the city disappear behind us.
The drive was long. Painfully long.
We left the city behind, then the suburbs, then even the small towns, heading into increasingly remote countryside. The roads got narrower, less maintained, winding through forests and hills I hadn’t even known existed this close to the city.
And with every mile, my nausea got worse.
The pregnancy, the stress, the winding roads all of it combined to make me feel like I was going to vomit at any moment.
“You okay back there?” Kai asked from the front seat, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
“Just carsick,” I managed to say, pressing my hand to my mouth.
“We’re almost there,” Kai said. “Maybe fifteen more minutes.”
Fifteen minutes felt like an eternity.
My mother rubbed my palm soothingly, while Isabella sat on the other side looking perfectly composed, not at all affected by the winding roads or the long journey.
Finally, after what felt like hours, we turned onto a private road marked only by a small, discreet sign. The road was long and tree-lined, creating a tunnel of greenery that blocked out most of the sunlight.
And then, at the end of the road, the safe house appeared.
It wasn’t what I’d expected.
I’d been picturing something industrial and fortress-like. But this was a sprawling estate a beautiful, elegant mansion set among manicured gardens and surrounded by high walls disguised as decorative stone barriers.
It looked like something from a magazine. Like a home, not a bunker.
The cars pulled up to the front entrance, and Kai came around to open my door.
I stumbled out on shaky legs, my body stiff and sore from the long drive. For a moment, I couldn’t feel my legs at all, the circulation cut off from sitting in the same position for so long.
“Take your time,” my mother said, helping me steady myself. “Let your legs wake up.”
I stood there, breathing in the fresh air, trying to get my bearings.
Behind us, the other vehicles pulled up. Benita emerged from the second one, looking as exhausted as I felt. And Sophia climbed out of the third, her expression closed off and miserable.
Guards began unloading our bags, moving with efficient precision.
“This way,” Kai said, gesturing toward the front entrance.
I managed to walk, my legs tingling as feeling returned to them, and followed Kai through the massive front doors.
The interior was breathtaking.
High ceilings, elegant furniture, tasteful artwork on the walls. Everything was pristine and beautiful, like a home that had been frozen in time.
Hanging in the main entrance hall, impossible to miss, was a portrait.
A woman. Stunningly beautiful, with dark hair that fell in elegant waves, warm brown eyes, and a smile that was both kind and confident. She wore a simple but elegant dress, and the artist had captured something ethereal about her an almost angelic quality.
Elena.
Damien’s first wife. Sophia’s mother.
I stopped in my tracks, unable to look away from the portrait.
She was beautiful. More beautiful than I’d imagined. And there was something in her eyes intelligence, warmth, strength that made me feel small and inadequate just looking at her.
This was the woman Damien had loved. The woman who’d helped him build his empire. The woman who’d decorated this house, chosen every piece of furniture, planted the gardens.
The woman I was supposed to replace.
And looking at her portrait, I suddenly felt like I could never measure up. Could never be what Damien had lost when she died.